An Artistic Battlefield
by HetaOniUsUk
Summary: Alfred is a soldier on the Union side during the Civil War. Arthur is an artist who documents the battles. As their worlds intertwine past lives are revealed and they fall for each other. But will their love survive in the midst of a war? Civil War AU. UsUk, a bit of Franada maybe PruAus and Spamano. Rated M for voilence, gore, and future smut.


**Hello~! This is my first story so comments and reviews are much appreciated. This story is UsUk. If you find this to be a good story, then feel free to suggest stories, preferably in Hetalia. When I say POV, it is ****not**** first person. Also sorry for the slow updates, but there is one computer between the four that make up my family. Thanks for reading and enjoy!**

**-POV Alfred-**

The date was 1861 and the Civil War was well underway. Alfred Jones was worn and beaten as he trudged through the battlefield.

"General, when will we retreat? Sir?"

"We will do no such thing! Those damned Confederates will not win! The Union stands strong and will stand strong, throughout the battle," replied the general.

"But, sir- " Alfred cut off suddenly. He looked out onto the vast field. The Virginian grass was stained crimson and broken bodies were littered everywhere.

"Do not argue! Be lucky I even let you back to the front lines, let alone the army!" Alfred could tell the general's patience was wearing thin.

As the group of quickly dwindling soldiers advanced Alfred hung back for a minute.

"Hey! Matthew!" Alfred ran to the blond man and pulled him to the front. "You okay, Mattie? It's getting rough." Even though Matthew Williams and Alfred looked alike they were not brothers, as many mistook them for. The same dark blond hair and light eyes. Alfred's eyes a shockingly bright shade of blue and Matthew's an even more shocking shade of violet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know about this battle, though, eh." Matthew's Canadian accent came out as he looked across the bloodied battlefield.

Luckily Alfred was the best shot in this troop otherwise he probably wouldn't have gotten back in. The vast battlefield was already splattered with blood and corpses. The opposing troops approached the field slowly. Then the fighting began. Alfred dropped quickly as the Confederates started firing. Crawling forward he aimed and shot down several soldiers on the front lines. Alfred carefully snaked through the browning grass and shot more and more soldiers down. Sighing he got into a crouching position and hurried over to the advancing line. He continued this routine of ducking and shooting for some time then Alfred looked back briefly and saw that they weren't fairing to well. As he focused back to the oncoming Confeds something caught his eye. A man was hiding behind a bush some yards away from Alfred. His rifle was lying beside him and in its stead he held a piece of charcoal and paper. Alfred couldn't make out who the man was, but as he turned his attention back to the battle it nagged at his mind. Suddenly a cry broke through the gunshots.

"PULL BACK! RETREAT!" Apparently the Union was doing worse than Alfred thought. Alfred started making his way back and looked at the spot where the strange man was. He wasn't there. They made a hasty retreat to the north where their temporary camp was. Alfred looked across the remaining soldiers and spotted Matthew.

"Hey! Mattie!" Alfred called out to Matthew as relief washed over him. Thank God Matthew was alright. He pushed his way through the soldiers and caught up with Matthew. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Matthew looked worn and beaten, but otherwise fine. "Just the usual cuts and bruises." They approached the camp and Alfred headed over the dying fire. He plopped down with a grunt put his head in his hands.

"We really got beat out there, didn't we?" Alfred sighed and looked at Matthew as that man in the bushes came to mind. "Hey, do you know who the strange man with the huge eyebrows is?"

"Yeah, some of the men were talking about him." Matthew got up and started walking to the tent Alfred shared with hm. "He's an artist. Apparently the people back in town want information so an unbiased artist is how they get a good picture of what's going on in the war. I hear this guy is from England since they're neutral."

"Huh." Alfred got up and followed Matthew to the tent. They changed clothes into the only thing comfortable besides the nightwear. Dinner of more scraps was being served as they made their way back to the fire. Alfred spotted the guy he saw in the bushed and after he grabbed some food he plopped down beside him.

"So I here you're a Brit." Alfred said through a mouthful of mushy porridge. The 'Brit' curled his nose in disgust and leaned back slightly.

"Yes. I am." His eyes were an emerald green and his hair a couple shades lighter than Alfred's. His most distinguishable feature was his bushy eyebrows.

"And you're an artist?" Alfred said, this time without food in his mouth. He looked around for a moment then called "Mattie! Hey! Come over here! So what's your name, Brit?"

"Arthur Kirkland." Arthur said. He finished sketching and turned his attention to the bowl of so called food. "And yours?"

"Alfred F. Jones!" Alfred grinned at Arthur and then pointed at Matthew who arrived next to them. "This here is Matthew Williams!"

"Pleasure to meet you." Matthew smiled at Arthur before sitting down.

"Are you two – "Arthur started to ask before Alfred interrupted with, "Brothers? Nope. Everyone asks it though. So Artie – is it okay if I call you that? – Where are you stayin'? I assume you got here today, since I haven't seen you before."

"My name is _Arthur _please don't call me Artie." He said with annoyance. "And I don't know where I'm staying. I'm supposed to be told." He glanced warily around at the other soldiers who were now joking around or heading back to their tents.

"You can stay with us!" Alfred offered. "I'm sure Mattie won't mind. Our tent is rather large. And all because I'm such a good shot."

"W-well I don't want to impose…" Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I mean…"

"Hey no problem, old man!" As Alfred got up he tripped and knocked over the bench with Arthur still on it. He fell on top of Arthur and Matthew fell across Alfred's leg. Arthur's face was inches from Alfred's and a blush spread across Arthur's cheeks.

"Ow, damn it! Get off! And Excuse me, I'm 23, thank you! And how old are you, child?" Arthur said indignantly. Alfred laughed then said, "I'm only joking with you! And I'm 19." He got up and started to make his way back to the tent. Alfred teased Arthur as they walked and Alfred's laughter rang across the campsite.

That night as they went to bed Alfred couldn't help thinking, _"Only Matthew knows… and that Brit is so adorable… if only… no."_ Alfred rolled over to look at the makeshift curtain that separated the three of them. He sighed and wished for a world where admitting your gay isn't writing your death sentence.


End file.
